


H comes after the G

by darkcosmo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bitter Exes, F/F, Humor, Office AU, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, and they were coworkers (oh my god they were coworkers), in which Hilda is a nightmare to work with, smut with just a hint of plot in the background, thats why this is two parts instead of one my b, well actually i did do more worldbuilding than neccesary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26701570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkcosmo/pseuds/darkcosmo
Summary: “So that’s how it’s going to be?” Hilda rolls her eyes, “Oh, fuck me!”“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”Whatever words Hilda was going to fire back, she chokes on, and her eyes go wide. An angry, red flush crawls up Hilda’s neck and settles right over the bridge of her nose as her jaw briefly works against empty air.“E-excuse you?”or:While working at the Seiros & Cichol LLP law firm, ex-girlfriends Hilda and Edelgard are forced into a project together. Still salty over their breakup, Hilda refuses to compromise. Edelgard improvises.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 29
Kudos: 131





	1. i

i

“Goneril and Hresvelg. Kirsten and–”

Hilda’s hand immediately shoots up, almost smacking Claude in the face on the way up. She can see by the twitch in his eye that managing partner Seteth is considering ignoring her completely, but it’s only after he heaves a massive sigh that he decides to call on her.

“Is something wrong, Hilda?” he asks.

Hilda lowers her hand, “Yeah, actually. I don’t think I agree with the method of assigning the partners for this project, to be perfectly honest with you.”

“You have a… _problem_ , with… the alphabet?” Seteth says haltingly. Several snickers from the coworkers around her don’t deter him from continuing in the same dry tone, “The assignations are as fair as can be. I unfortunately cannot control that the G goes right before the letter H. That being said…” he gestures at the silver head of hair sitting with her team at another table, “Edelgard bills the most hours. You could certainly learn a thing or two.”

As if in slow motion, the bane of her existence tilts her head in Hilda’s direction, and the dumb bitch is _smirking_. Hilda tries to ignore her, but some days it’s honestly impossible to. Edelgard von Hresvelg wasn’t a person one could easily snub, for what she lacked in stature she certainly made up for in a commanding presence and a lofty attitude. It didn’t help that the black suit she was wearing was perfectly tailored to her body, or that the deep red of her blouse just drew any eye in the vicinity to it.

Despite working at the same law firm, Hilda had managed to avoid the tax law demon as best as she could in her own department over in marketing. Any business she had that remotely concerned Edelgard or her team, she delegated to Lorenz or Dorothea or whoever else. She’d had some close calls, but if Hilda excelled at anything, it was at avoiding things and situations she wanted no part of—

Collaborating with her ex-girlfriend from college being first and foremost.

“Just take the L, Hilda.” Claude mumbles, annoyed that she was starting to make a little bit of a scene, that their team was starting to seem unprofessional. She’s _aware_ of that! She just… can’t help it. Not when Edelgard looks so cool and unfazed over this cursed assignation.

Seteth Cichol was managing partner, hell, his name was on the fucking building. His word, as well as senior partner Rhea’s, were the rule of the land, and he was already displeased with her after a blunder regarding the firm’s social media after an idiot intern under Hilda’s wing messed up.

He’d tried to lecture her in a bizarre way, alluding her behavior to that of a “ _lazy fox_ ”, and the people she delegated tasks to as “ _industrious squirrels_ ”, and she did not wish for a repeat of _that_ bullshit. Still, she’ll be damned if she doesn’t at least _try_ one more time to weasel her way out of this collab between the legal and the marketing departments.

Hilda tries to look intimidating, or pleading, or both, but her voice comes out as a whine, “ _Seteth, sir_ –”

He holds up a hand, and she stops.

 _Fuck_.

*** * ***

For several days, she avoids Edelgard like she’s the plague.

Which, like, _she_ _is_. The Plague, capital P, that is. It’s by no means easy, but Hilda has a whole network of people wrapped around her little finger that are always all-too-happy to cover her ass. Whenever Edelgard was at the firm, she asked to work from home, and when she was positive the Adrestian was at the courthouse, Hilda dropped by the office building and actually got some work done.

She’d long ago blocked Edelgard everywhere else, even from their official work email. No, it was not practical _or_ a smart move, but she was petty like that. Hilda kept getting redacted messages and requests to receive the lawyer’s messages, but she reported them as spam and malware every time. Cyril from IT had even asked her about it, and she’d easily feigned dementia on the matter.

“It’s bullshit that we’re having lunch on the _stairwell_ , Hilda.” Claude groans, his voice echoing around the empty, stale air of the emergency gateway. Hilda feels kinda bad that her best friend and head of her department has been dragged to eat here, with a tupperware balanced on his thighs. “You know the lawyers eat out, like, every single day, right? No chance of Edelgard bumping into us. Can’t we just have lunch, I don’t know, _at a regular table_?”

“No,” Hilda deadpans. She picks at her microwaved pasta before explaining herself, “I can’t risk it. Marianne told me Edelgard’s been hovering by my cubicle, asking after me. I’m in _danger_.”

“That’s because you have a massive presentation due in three days, and you refuse to even acknowledge her as your partner,” Claude says, “Lysithea and I are pretty much done with ours. All we’re missing is some references, and to add a couple of videos,” he directs the end of his spork accusingly in her direction, “I’m sure Edelgard is livid that you’re procrastinating and blowing her off.”

“I wish Lys was _my_ partner,” Hilda laments, “Or Ingrid, or Ferdinand, or Dimitri, or _literally anyone else_!”

Her growing voice bounces around the empty stairwell, and it feels good to get off her chest, but it gets her throat dry. Hilda pulls out her plastic cup with the embedded straw that’s filled with the god’s chosen beverage: iced caramel macchiato, extra caramel.

“That so? Even _Hubert_?” Claude smirks.

Hilda chokes on her drink, as an actual shudder travels over her body. “ _Ew_. Ugh. Maybe? Wait, no. _No_. Double _ugh_! Both are equally as bad. Equally icky.”

Claude hums, and it turns into a low chuckle. Hilda takes the opportunity to admire the earrings she made for him adorning his ear, some of her premium pieces. She endlessly appreciated him wearing her stuff, showing it off. He’d done it since high school, back when she’d offer to decorate that quirky little braid of his with beads.

“I thought you said you were over her,” Claude rubs at his eye with the heel of his hand, “You even dated Caspar for a while after her. I think you two…” he lowers his voice, almost sounding conspiratorial, “I think you two have some _unresolved things_ to work through, if you catch my drift?”

“I think you’re a dork that eats with a spork,” Hilda says. When Claude’s brows rightfully furrow in offence, she adds, “See? It’s not fun being handed unwanted input, is it?”

“Point taken,” Claude nods, then raises his hands, “Okay, okay, last unwanted comment of the day: why are you being so difficult about this? It’s just a Powerpoint. At worst, you’ll have to spend two hours of your time with your ex making it and then have to stand beside her during a slides presentation,” he shifts his left hand like he’s weighing something invisible, “At best, you reconnect and become the power couple of the office.”

“I thought you and Lorenz were the power couple of the office.”

“Nah, he doesn’t want to have to report it to the HR clowns, per the rules. He thinks it’ll get back to his father somehow, and the elder Gloucester does _not_ like me,” he raises one dark eyebrow in her direction, “Ms. Hresvelg and you wouldn’t have to keep things secret, though.”

Hilda chuckles, but there’s little humor in it. “The only way I’d get back together with that monster is if she apologized to me. You ever seen her do that? I don’t know that she even apologizes when she bumps into people, let alone when she wrongs them.”

“Hm, that’s harsh. Not sure I believe that… then again, you _may be_ biased,” he says, inflicting some lightness to his tone, and it drags a real smile out of her.

Really, she wasn’t worried. The way this would play out, Edelgard would probably bite the bullet and do everything on her own. If she didn’t rat out Hilda, improvising her part would be no problem when the time came, she was good at it. In the unlikely event that Edelgard spilled, Hilda would just shift some blame around and promise to do better in the future.

Monday couldn’t come soon enough.

*** * ***

Friday noon comes around, and Hilda scoffs at the scribbled OUT OF ORDER sign outside the copy room, pulls it down, and goes in anyway. She wasn’t born yesterday. She knew it was just a strategy her coworkers often employed to get some privacy in this hell of a building.

She swipes her card on the machine that seems to be working perfectly, taps on the screen a few times, and waits for the printing to begin. There’s a strange whirring sound that very swiftly lets her know that the sign wasn’t a lie, and it’s confirmed when her copy gets stuck halfway out, with the printed text runny with watery ink.

She’d missed the training session when this was installed, and then blacked out when Lysithea recounted the steps two days after when she couldn’t figure out how to print anything. Hilda tugs at the trapped paper with the bleeding ink before getting frustrated and yanking it, managing to rip it. She is about to launch a well-placed kick against the stupid machine, but a deep voice behind her makes her reconsider.

“Hilda.”

Hilda curses softly and whirls around, just to be met with all-too familiar lavender eyes that don’t look remotely happy to see her. Today, Edelgard is wearing a sleek black dress under a blazer, with her hair done in a side ponytail, and she’s even wearing some pretty eyeshadow for a change. She probably had a hearing today, needed to woo a judge or intimidate the other litigants or something.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” it’s not a question, or an inquiry, but a cold, factual statement.

“No, I haven’t?” Hilda says, mustering as much confusion to her voice as she can. She forces her eyes to go wide, “Wait, _wait_. You work here, too?”

Edelgard’s jaw ticks, and she folds her arms across her chest when her temper rears its ugly head, “See, this is _exactly_ why we broke up. You’re still that manipulative, childish asshole–”

Her rant ends with a growl as a small projectile flies her way. Hilda had taken the liberty to flick a tiny balled-up piece of her ruined paper right into Edelgard’s non-existent cleavage. Hilda giggles as the furious Adrestian digs it out, then tosses it back at her head.

Edelgard levels her with a glare, “Thank you, Hilda. For proving my point.”

She shrugs in response. Hilda honest-to-gods didn’t care about this job. As soon as her online jewelry business _really_ took off, she would be out of here. This gig at Seiros & Cichol LLP paid the bills, for now, but it’s not what she wanted to do long term. Her brother got her this job anyways. That’s also why she wasn’t sweating too bad over this presentation business. She didn’t really care. Edelgard, on the other hand, lived and breathed for the firm, and Hilda knew the ambitious young woman had sights on a partnership here before the age of thirty.

“I’m not Ferdinand, or Lorenz, or Caspar, or any of your minions,” Edelgard says, “I am _not_ about to do all the work and let you reap the benefits. But I’m also not a snitch, and I believe you are a somewhat capable adult that can look past our differences to do this _one thing_.”

Hilda yawns in response, deliberately acting petty and obtuse so maybe her ex would go away. She doesn’t. Instead, Edelgard holds up her own piece of paper, “I actually came here to get a copy of this, for _you_ , since you won’t answer my calls or emails,” she shoves it with more force than strictly necessary against Hilda’s chest and she has no choice but to take it, “This is the complete outline, and it’s the last thing I’m doing without your assistance. Moving forward, we’re doing this together, and I _do not care_ what your feelings on the matter are.”

“You? Not caring about someone else’s feelings?” Hilda’s laugh is derisive as she briefly reads over some of the document. As expected, it looks perfect. “Oh, I’m _well aware_ of that.”

The tips of Edelgard’s ears flush red, and once upon a time Hilda would’ve found it adorable, but she currently really hated the other woman’s guts. Her Enbarr accent slips out whenever she’s upset, and her next words are at a significantly higher pitch, “Do not take what I said out of context, Hilda Goneril. You always do this! You try to make me out to be the villain, when really–”

Before Hilda can give her a piece of her mind, someone clears their throat loudly and authoritatively behind them, and Seteth steps inside with a scowl that could wilt flowers. She watches Edelgard’s entire frame stiffen, and her hostile demeanor immediately changes to a meeker one.

It’s alien to see a managing partner anywhere near the copy room, procuring their own copies, like, that’s what secretaries and interns were for. He has a small stack of papers with him, and Hilda thinks she spies a cartoon fox on the cover of them. _Fuck_ , had the weirdo actually turned his lecture into a fable to terrorize other employees with?

“Forgive my intrusion,” Seteth’s voice is filled with contempt, “But I seem to have misplaced the memo that said we would be having a shouting match inside the copy room.”

Edelgard freezes. She’d always had a big problem with authority, especially with Seteth’s partner and their ultimate boss, Rhea Seiros. It’s probably why she hadn’t ratted out Hilda in the first place. Edelgard’s rebellious streak had caused her problems around these parts, but she _was_ the best they had, despite her young age, so both parties sort of tolerated each other to keep appearances.

But dealing with authority is Hilda’s forte, one of her well-traveled territories. She offers up Edelgard’s carefully typed paper, “Sorry, sir. I was just walking Edelgard here through some of the basics of our project.”

Seteth’s nostrils flare, “You mean you have not started it?”

“We have,” Hilda’s lie comes to her as easy as breathing, “In fact, it’s almost done, we were polishing up the references, adding some videos as well. I made this to get Edelgard here up to speed on a few oversights,” she could leave it at that, she _really could_ , but she can’t resist the opportunity to trip Edelgard up by adding, “I just wish I didn’t have to babysit my partner so much, you know? I’ve been trying to get ahold of her for days, our schedules have been a little hectic. But it’s all good now, sir!”

Although Edelgard could easily call her out, prove her a liar and back it all up, for whatever reason, she does not. She just stands there, eyes wide and jaw clenched, _taking it_. It’s a dick move, 100% it is, but Hilda’s mean girl spirit from her youth never did die out. Their boss looks over the paper and nods in approval, as it was probably flawless, given the real author. His stern gaze lands on the suddenly mute Adrestian and he offers the document back for her to take.

“Oh, Edelgard,” Seteth drawls, those green eyes of his dull with disappointment. “Rhea and I really did expect better of you. Please be more assertive moving forward.”

He eyes the jammed copy machine and gives a slight shake of his head, tucking his bunched papers under one arm before walking right out from whence he came. Out of sight, he barks at some unsuspecting intern to make the copies for him on a machine that actually works, as he should have from the start.

“Just what the fuck,” Edelgard says, with faux-calmness dripping from her every word once he’s out of earshot, “ _do you think you’re doing_?”

Hilda snorts with the laughter that had been building in her chest at the stunt she just pulled, “Gods! Are you sure you’re a lawyer? That was so funny. Why’d you let me do _that_?”

“I was just astounded by the sheer stupidity you managed to come up with on the spot,” Edelgard’s tone is venomous. She takes out her frustration by crumpling up the document in her fist. “Your audacity rendered me speechless.”

“Oh, babe, we absolutely are _not_ that lucky,” Hilda gives Edelgard’s cheek a firm, condescending pat, one that may very well get her killed.

Before Edelgard can throttle her on this here copy room, Claude stumbles in with a flustered Lorenz in tow. Hilda blinks slowly as heavy silence settles over the cramped room. An eternity passes before the red-faced Gloucester man turns on his heel and disappears without a word.

“Um.” Claude says, blinking right back. “Didn’t you read the warning? Machine’s out of order. What did you do to my sign?”

“I thought it was just some bullshit to make out with Lorenz in secret.” Hilda says, as she points her chin towards the output tray to show the papers jammed inside.

“Well, why couldn’t it be both? Machine doesn’t work _and_ I wanted to make out with Lorenz in secret.”

“Seteth was _just here_. Do you _want_ to die?”

Claude’s lips part to reply, but suddenly his brain seems to catch up with the scene before him. His eyes shift between the two women inside, the relaxed stance of one and the flushed complexion of the other. He taps his chin, “Am I interrupting a much-needed moment?”

“If by moment you mean I’m trying to get your sloth of a friend to contribute to our project, then yes,” Edelgard replies, eyeing Hilda with as much disdain as she can. Hilda winks and flips her off in response.

“Ah, no, no. I meant the sexy kind of moment.”

Edelgard’s face gets redder if at all humanly possible. Hilda balks, and in that moment decides she doesn’t need those copies after all, “You really have worms for brains, you know that, Riegan?”

Although a ways shorter than him, when she pushes past him to exit, his back hits the wall and the breath is knocked out of him. He may be her boss, but it did not mean he got to meddle in her affairs without repercussions. Before she can flee, Edelgard grabs her by the wrist to stop her.

“We’re doing the stupid Powerpoint,” there’s a dark gleam in Edelgard’s eye that Hilda doesn’t entirely dislike, “I must go to the courthouse today, but maybe I can come back here and meet you to work in one of the empty conference rooms–” 

Hilda yanks her hand back, “Yeah, no. That’s not happening. I don’t believe in working afterhours. Let me know when you figure something out that works for both of us, though!”

She wiggles her fingers in Claude’s direction, maybe in apology, definitely in goodbye, and strides out of the stuffy copy room without waiting for Edelgard’s response.

* * *

Claude rubs the back of his head where it hit the wall, and he looks genuinely apologetic on behalf of his unhinged friend. He certainly could discipline his underling, but Edelgard also understood why he chose not to. Hilda was a grown woman, and she was out of control. Still, some backup would have been nice.

As if reading her mind, the young man offers a sheepish smile, “Heh, so… maybe I can ask her for coffee, and you can ambush her then?”

“That’s okay.” Edelgard’s eyes are still trained by the door her ex-girlfriend just crossed, as her pulse thrums loud and insistent in her ears. “I know where she lives.”

*** * ***

Saturday night, Edelgard shows up at the nice apartment complex with nothing but her laptop and furious determination.

After Ferdinand confirmed to her via Hilda’s social media –all the ones she’s blocked from accessing– that the insufferable woman was having a “#cozy night in” she knows there’s no better time. Their presentation was due _Monday_ , and besides some independent research Edelgard had conducted on her own, she still lacked the marketing perspective that seemed to be so important, and why this collaboration was necessary in the first place.

There was no prize to be won, no bonus, no promotion or incentive to do well, really. At least not for Hilda, hence her intolerable attitude. For Edelgard, however, the exposure was important, because the partners of the firm would be there, and they would get better acquaintanced with her oratory skills. It was an opportunity to be noted for a partnership down the not-so-distant future. That was the first step in her plan to eventually drive out Rhea and her corrupt family from the same firm her father had been forced out of, so she _needed_ to do well.

She also learned that Dimitri’s project was finished, since his marketing counterpart, Marianne, had actually worked _with_ him and not _against_ him. After founding partner Macuil stepped down a year ago, her stepbrother became her prime competition for a partnership, and having him outshine her in something so stupid was unacceptable.

Not for the first time, Edelgard wishes the letter H and the G weren’t right next to each other on the alphabet. If Linhardt Hevring hadn’t quit two months ago, after claiming he didn’t _vibe with capitalism_ , Hilda would be _his_ problem, and Edelgard’s project would have been done several days ago with a competent partner.

Instead of caving the door in with a kick of her boot, SWAT-style, like she very much wants to, Edelgard politely presses the doorbell and obscures herself as best as she can from the view of the peephole. She wouldn’t put it past Hilda to refuse to open the door upon realizing it’s her. The last time she had been here, she’d had several objects thrown her way as Hilda had screamed at her to get out, get out, get out.

In the end, her pragmatism isn’t necessary, because Hilda is too lazy to even check who it is. She simply wrenches open the door, gets one look at Edelgard, and hurries to close it in her face, but Edelgard shoves her leg in before she can.

“Stop trespassing, Ms. Fancy Lawyer,” Hilda hisses, as Edelgard is successfully clawing her way inside the threshold. Half her body is already in, but she’s afraid that if she falters, Hilda is simply going to sandwich her against the frame and actually hurt her.

Edelgard leans her full weight against the plastic door, trying to force her way in. She knew them to be of more or less equal strength, but this time Hilda seems to be trying to balance something in her other hand out of sight, perhaps food, so she can’t really work with her full might. In the end, this proves crucial for Edelgard, because Hilda lets out a loud curse before drawing back, and despite her pent-up momentum, Edelgard manages to stumble inside and not land on her face as Hilda probably intended.

She regains her balance and glares up at Hilda, who’s scowling right back. The culprit of her performance defending the door is revealed to be a steaming cup of tea that smells like berry blend, Hilda’s favorite. She probably figured smashing or spilling it would be more of a hassle than kicking out Edelgard after letting her in, but Edelgard would prove her to be sorely mistaken.

She was not going anywhere. 

The homeowner wasn’t lying about her cozy night in. Hilda is wearing a ratty crop top emblazoned with _Garreg Mach Uni_ across her chest, shorts, and knee-high socks. Her pink hair is done in twin tails, a look she knew Hilda used to rock everyday back when she lived in Leicester, if the polaroids on her walls were any indication. Her face is a little shiny, probably recently moisturized by a facemask… if Edelgard missed anything about them as a couple, it was Hilda pampering her with skincare products. 

“Hey, that’s my shirt,” Edelgard blurts out, adjusting the strap of her laptop bag. She knows it’s hers, because Hilda usually opted to buy GMU merch in golden colors, not the red variations.

“ _Was_ your shirt,” Hilda holds up her cup and takes a sip, eyes still narrowed over the brim. After they let a few tense seconds drag on, she raises the one that’s not holding anything in a dismissive wave, “Well… you can leave now,” Hilda doesn’t bother to wait for a response before she saunters away, disappearing into what she knows to be her bedroom.

Edelgard bristles at her indifference for a moment before kicking the door closed behind her and following after Hilda. She leaves her laptop bag over by the couch, where Hilda’s movie is paused, and the buttery smell of her popcorn still wafts through the air.

Frankly, Edelgard should not even be surprised by her petty antics, but it was a little disheartening to see no personal growth on her ex’s part, even a year after their breakup. Edelgard supposed it hadn’t been that long ago, since she ended things close to both their graduations. She’d thrown herself fully into her work, got tunnel vision for her grand plans, and didn’t look back.

Hilda stands by the vanity, with her back to her. She notes that the room remains mostly unchanged, with the hot pink bedspread and fluffy pillows still there as if no time had passed at all. Hilda seems to have ditched her tea somewhere, and is humming a random tune as she gathers the thick locks of her hair and pulls them up into a high ponytail, like the ones she wore to work.

When she slowly spins around to face Edelgard, she has the gall to look _surprised_ that she didn’t tuck tail and leave. Her shirt rides up as she does, exposing the taut plane of her stomach even more for Edelgard’s greedy gaze. She tries to avert it, but something hot and familiar has already settled in her gut, stirring feelings she thought long buried.

“Oh. You’re still here,” Hilda tilts her head, and the sheer _bored_ lilt of her tone is enough to make Edelgard’s blood boil. She finishes her ponytail and flips it over her shoulder, “I can guarantee you I’m not giving you back this top, so… _shoo_. Run along, now.”

“I don’t care about the shirt,” Edelgard swallows, forces her indignation at being _shooed_ down to the pit of her stomach or gods help her, she’s going to strangle this woman. “I’m here because you need to help me with _our_ project.”

“I’m not doing that either,” Hilda’s smile borders on a snarl, and the display certainly doesn’t help at how enraged she’s suddenly feeling, “Is that all? You have your answer. Now please get the fuck out.”

Edelgard takes a shuddering breath, she’s so furious, that the words just spill out, unchecked, vicious, “If you keep up this flippant bullshit, I’m calling your brother. I’m calling Holst, and I’m informing him what a piece of work his sister is. I know you don’t care about repercussions from Seteth or Rhea, but I know how much you care about meeting _his_ expectations.”

Hilda gapes at her, and for a second she fears her trump card is going to be ridiculed or her bluff called, but she watches in smug fascination as Hilda’s eyes go wide and her hands ball into fists, “I– what the fuck? Why would you bring family into this?”

Holst obviously knows what his sister is like, hell, he probably helped make her this way. But Edelgard also knows how mortifying it would be for Hilda if her brother learned about her nasty little attitude, especially in a professional setting. In order to keep her brother happy and oblivious, Hilda had to remain angelic-like before his eyes.

“He has a right to know what you’re pulling here,” Edelgard says. “And if he’s not enough, then perhaps your father can explain why his youngest never grew out of being an entitled little brat.”

Hilda’s entire frame goes rigid, as if mentioning her racist, senile father was the key to unlocking her cooperation. He may be those things, but he also controlled all of her credit cards connected to the Goneril fortune. She raises a perfect set of incredulous eyebrows, “Are you serious right now?”

“Oh, you know me. I’m quite the jokester.” Edelgard says in the driest tone possible. 

She would have to thank Hubert later for the idea, but what her closest friend didn’t prepare her for was the inevitable tantrum that would follow when Edelgard got her way. More than wrathful, Hilda looks annoyed, like doing her fucking job was actually this huge inconvenience for her.

“ _Fine_ ,” Hilda bites out, as she crosses her arms over her chest. “But I meant what I said. I don’t want you here, in my healing space. We can figure something out, uh, tomorrow evening?”

“Healing space,” Edelgard repeats, and follows it with a scoff, “ _absolutely not_. We’re starting this _today_. Everyone had a week to do theirs, and we have less than forty-eight hours. So, no, Hilda. We are _not_ rescheduling for tomorrow. You’re in for an all-nighter with yours truly.”

Hilda raises her eyes to the ceiling, maybe considering summoning some crocodile tears to sway things in her favor, or perhaps asking some higher power to smite them where they stand to avoid the inevitable. It was hard to tell. Eventually, she settles on closing the distance between herself and Edelgard in an angry huff, “You think you can just waltz in here and order me around?”

Edelgard’s smile is cold, “That’s exactly what I think.”

The older woman actually _stomps_ her foot against the carpeted floor, like a toddler not getting their way, and Hilda’s nose wrinkles like she just smelled something foul. Something molten and heavy coils in Edelgard’s stomach, and she feels like someone injected electricity directly into her bloodstream.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Hilda rolls her eyes, “Oh, fuck me!”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

Whatever words Hilda was going to fire back, she chokes on, and her eyes go wide. An angry, red flush crawls up Hilda’s neck and settles right over the bridge of her nose as her jaw briefly works against empty air.

“E-excuse _you_?”

She has to admit the words escaped her without passing through all the proper filters, and the surge of adrenaline she felt may have been partly to blame, but she does not regret them. Now, if Edelgard had been on her right mind, she would have backed off. Maybe even apologized profusely for such a comment, and moved on.

But.

But, she stands her ground, and Edelgard raises her chin defiantly. “You heard me.”

It’s infinitely amusing how Hilda can look both deeply offended and veritably turned on, at the exact same time. There’s a glint in her eye, a tightness to her shoulders. Hilda looks like she wants to punch her. And she does just that.

But with her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i guess... this is my leap into the E rating. i was going to orphan this work tbh and i've been agonizing over what to do with it for like a month, and i just... idk. idk. idk. ive never. written something. like this. but it's such a small ship i decided i wanted to contribute with content, so... here we are.
> 
> -actual smut in the next and final part! it was getting a little long hahha


	2. ii

The kiss is all clashing teeth and bumping noses, completely out of sync, but it’s a matter of seconds before they find their old rhythm and sink into it.

Hilda doesn’t let the hot, uncomfortable shame she feels bubbling up inside deter her from absolutely ravaging her former girlfriend and then some. She feels wild and frustrated, and she’s not remotely gentle in her touches or her need. Her tongue delves hungrily into the heat of Edelgard’s mouth. It’s rough and it’s sloppy, honestly not her finest work, but _gods_ is it exactly what she needs.

Even on the weekend, her ex’s attire is business casual, and it irks Hilda for some unfathomable reason. She kind of wants to shatter that impeccable way of hers, the calculated aura Edelgard flaunted so effortlessly. Hilda makes short work of forcing the designer blouse over Edelgard’s head, leaving her in a simple black bra. Thick surgical scars mar her chest, but it’s nothing Hilda hasn’t seen before, and she doesn’t even blink.

Edelgard reaches for the hem of her crop top, but Hilda bats her hands away and pulls her into another heated, demanding kiss. The Adrestian makes an unhappy noise in the back of her throat, but she still throws her arms around Hilda’s neck and doesn’t insist again. The lawyer gives as good as she gets, and in no time at all they’re both panting and trying to gain the upper hand over the other.

Edelgard’s trying to push her backwards so that the back of her knees hits the bed. In turn, and with the same intensity, Hilda tries to drive Edelgard over to the desk so she can bend her over it. It’s a pretty even match, until Edelgard _fucking cheats_ and pulls her by the hair.

A long whine of protest leaves Hilda’s lungs as a fistful of her ponytail is tugged downwards, and her head is forced back, baring her throat. It’s the opening Edelgard needs to latch on to her pulse point and apply pressure against it. The Adrestian starts out with open-mouthed kisses, bordering on _sweet_ , but Hilda quickly feels teeth graze her throat.

Hilda tries to push her back by the shoulders, but with that hand still burrowed in her hair, Edelgard has some, if not complete control, over her posture. It certainly didn’t help her inward resolve that the attention to her neck is downright intoxicating, or that her ex seems intent on leaving marks on the sensitive skin there. She would need to apply loads of extra concealer in the coming days if Edelgard kept it up.

The Leicester woman decides to yield. She figures it’s okay if she’s straddled on the bed, as she can easily regain control after that, but Edelgard’s plan changes in a blink. Still gripping her by the hair, she maneuvers Hilda to the desk and folds her over it, then promptly presses her own body against her, trapping her there.

“This was your aim, was it not? You intended to pin me like this?” Edelgard’s honeyed, mocking tone next to her ear is completely new, and it sends liquid heat right between Hilda’s thighs. “How do you like it?”

Hilda feels her ears burn hot with embarrassment at having the situation flipped on her, even more so for how much she’s enjoying it. Not done abusing her scalp, Edelgard twists her ponytail and brings her closer still, with her hot breath tickling the side of her face, “I asked you a question.”

“I thought it was rhetorical,” Hilda says sweetly, as she swiftly smacks Edelgard’s face away by means of her pinned shoulder. The grip on her hair is released, but her wrists are targeted next, and they’re forced to the small of her back by the demented lawyer still leaning over her body.

Realizing that it’s a losing fight, Hilda presses her cheek against the cool oak and tries to look as pitiful as possible, “I-I think you’ve made your point?”

“Mm. I don’t think I have,” Edelgard chirps, and Hilda watches in abject horror as from gods-knows-where, her ex-girlfriend procures the pink scarf Marianne got her for Secret Santa two years ago. The soft material is quickly secured around her wrists, keeping them bound in place at the small of her back. Despite not having the other woman’s weight at her back anymore, something more powerful keeps Hilda in place, frozen and obedient.

Hilda feels the flush on her ears travel to her cheeks, and she gives her ties an experimental tug, to no avail. The scarf would not be cutting off her blood circulation, but it wouldn’t allow her the free use of her arms, either. _Gods_ , this was shaping up to be like their Garreg Mach University days all over again. The prospect alone almost makes her head dizzy with excitement… for a furious Edelgard von Hresvelg _always_ made for a fantastic time in this kinda setting.

Edelgard presses her elbow into the middle of Hilda’s back and leans her full weight on top of her to keep her still. She nuzzles the back of Hilda’s neck when she asks, “What were you going to do to me, if you had managed to pin me down first?” Edelgard sounds genuinely curious. “I have some ideas, but _you_ are remarkably creative.”

This time, the Adrestian doesn’t wait for a response. She plays with the fraying edges of Hilda’s shorts, and the anticipation alone is almost enough to make Hilda ask for something she will surely regret, and she bites her tongue. Edelgard pulls on the waistband and lets it snap back, but does not remove the shorts, to Hilda’s dismay.

“I-I wasn’t going to _do_ anything,” Hilda lies, and Edelgard clicks her tongue at the poor attempt.

“You know, it was one thing to mess with a couple of my Uni classes, getting me to oversleep, convincing me to go out instead of studying in,” Edelgard says, a dangerous undercurrent to her voice. “But this is my career, my future, _my life_. You don’t get to sabotage that anymore.”

“It’s a fucking Powerpoint!” Hilda thrashes in place, and she blows her bangs out of her face with an indignant huff. When Edelgard fails to reply, Hilda’s lips pull into a snarl, “I guess some things never change. Still have that stick safely up your ass, _Edie_.”

“Oh, it’s not _my_ ass you should concern yourself with,” Edelgard says cheerfully, and she punctuates this by kicking Hilda’s legs apart, making her yelp. “Stop fussing,” she snaps.

In one smooth motion, Hilda's shorts are pulled down to her ankles, and Edelgard’s prodding knee begins to rub between her thighs, through the thin material of her panties. She tries to close her legs, but it only seems to encourage Edelgard to drag her knee a little slower, a little meaner. While still hovering near her ear, Edelgard’s husky voice asks, “Do you remember your colors?”

Hilda’s mouth falls open in a silent gasp, her mind starting to get hazy from the building pleasure. Edelgard’s words rumble through her chest and straight down her spine, “My– my _what_?”

“Your colors,” Edelgard murmurs, as her pace goes from tentative to teasing, “ _Green, orange, red_. But I believe we’re dropping orange today,” it’s nowhere near enough friction to get any sort of relief, and Edelgard knows this, she knows this even before she delivers her ultimatum: “So tonight it’s green or red. _Yes or no_.”

Hilda lets out a whine and turns her head to try to hide her face, but there’s nowhere to run. Edelgard’s knee is still slotted there, between her thighs, doing nothing and everything at once. It feels like she’s a teenager again trying to get some sort of relief from humping a pillow, and this sort of contact is nowhere near enough. She thinks she can get away with not answering, but suddenly she _feels_ more than _sees_ one of Edelgard’s hands join her knee down there, and her blunt nails jump in on the torment.

“P-please,” Hilda mutters into her desk, vaguely aware that she was probably starting to drool on the papers there. Despite her growing humiliation, she wiggles her hips in a silent invitation, so maybe the bothersome undergarment will finally be removed. 

“That’s not a color.”

Edelgard’s hand continues to play with the increasingly wet material of her panties. A teasing brush against the inside of her thighs wrenches a whimper from Hilda’s throat. She would have squirmed away, but the weight of Edelgard’s body pinning her made that impossible.

Hilda grits her teeth, grits them so hard she thinks some bone in her jaw is bound to pop with the force of it, but instead she spits a single, damning word out.

“Green.”

It’s a relief and a contradiction, all at once. Edelgard drops her knee, but her fingers finally hook around Hilda’s underwear and she drags it past her legs to join the shorts pooled on the floor. She’s still wearing those long socks and the crop top, but apparently it’s not in the cards to get her completely naked.

Next, Edelgard grabs Hilda by her bound wrists and forces her upright, “ _Get up_.”

* * *

Honestly, Edelgard had only come here to force her bum ex-girlfriend to contribute to their mutual project, but the outcome of this evening was one she was not going to complain about. If fucking Hilda into submission is what it would take to get her to work and one-up her dumb stepbrother, then so be it.

She sits down on the edge of Hilda’s bed and parks the other girl so she’s sitting on Edelgard’s thigh. The Adrestian cringes, remembering too late she’s still wearing her slacks and that Hilda’s predicament is sure to ruin them. Well, fuck. Now she had to make time to drop them off at the dry cleaner’s sometime during the week.

When Hilda pointedly rolls her hips and makes an impatient little noise in the back of her throat, all thoughts of the dry cleaners are violently tossed out the window. With her hands tied behind her back, it’s tricky for Hilda to keep her balance, so Edelgard steadies her with one hand while she brings the other one forth to toy with her entrance.

“Okay, first, let’s check how wet you really are, hm?” Edelgard says, and without further ado, she cups her former girlfriend between the legs. Hilda’s mouth falls open, and her toes curl, but there’s a stubborn strain to her jaw that prevents the escape of any significant sound.

Despite her attitude, the best part remained in watching Hilda’s blissed out face as Edelgard’s fingers worked her open. Hilda flutters those pretty lashes of hers and her throat bobs with effort, and the most she can coax out of her are soft sighs. The velvety feel and the heat of her body, mixed with the distinct scent of Hilda’s floral perfume, remind Edelgard of better times.

When Hilda starts to press down against her fingers, grinding into them and seeking _more_ but refusing to ask for it, Edelgard pulls them out entirely, earning her a whine of protest, with still no actual requests or even demands. Hilda’s last words to her had been her consent, but now she seemed intent on giving her the silent treatment despite having Edelgard’s fingers literally inside of her, which was confusing at best.

“Messy.” Edelgard’s voice is cold as she examines her slick fingers. She brings them up to hold the digits over Hilda’s face, “Open your mouth.”

Hilda tries to resist the order, and presses her lips into a thin, stubborn line. The display of defiance makes Edelgard’s heart race, and she taunts the other girl by smearing her own wetness against her chin and over swollen lips. The smell of her arousal on Edelgard’s fingers must be driving Hilda wild, for her half-lidded eyes give her away.

“You’re going to clean up your mess,” Edelgard’s tone is harsh, and her fingers insistent. It’s not long before Hilda relents, her lips opening by a fraction, and it’s even less time before Edelgard shoves two of them all the way in, making Hilda gag as they press down on her tongue.

Although not her initial aim, she starts to fuck her mouth, sliding in and out, in and out. She allows breaks for Hilda to actually lick or suck at the digits and get them clean before she resumes the general assault on her mouth. Despite the haughty attitude, the heat and the wetness on her thigh where Hilda is perched grows, and maybe Edelgard is going to have to deem these pants lost after all.

When she gets bored of this, she pulls her fingers out, and it feels like a bolt of lightning shoots through her at the alluring picture that Hilda’s slack jaw and flushed ears make. “Good job, pretty girl.” Edelgard says, albeit sarcastically. Praise wasn’t really effective on Hilda, not the way it did it for Edelgard, so she says it just because she can. She wipes her fingers clean for real on Hilda’s (her?) shirt, and her ex has the absolute gall to raise her eyes to the ceiling and _pout_.

Edelgard runs her tongue along the front of her teeth, her eyes narrowing. She grabs Hilda by the chin and tilts her head forward, forcing their gazes to meet. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Hmph. Not that this isn’t hot, but… did you forget where my clit is, ooor…?”

The Adrestian gives a slight shake of her head, clucking her tongue at her impatience. It was quite typical of Hilda to just want immediate gratification instead of letting things build up slowly. She recalls how it had been a bit of a cultural shock for the Leicester woman to find out that Edelgard was not only a _builder_ , but a patient one at that.

“Ah, so you aren’t mute,” Edelgard’s hand shifts from her chin over to pat her on the cheek, maybe rougher than strictly necessary, as it makes Hilda flinch. “I was getting worried, you’re usually so vocal.”

Edelgard’s grip holds her in place, preventing Hilda from rolling her hips to get any sort of friction or doing much of anything. Mischief flashes across the bound woman’s eyes before she leans forward and steals a brief, heated kiss. It succeeds in sharing around the taste of Hilda’s own arousal that Edelgard herself had smeared there. The distinct tang floods her senses and reminds her of the first time she went down on Hilda: inside a closet at a lame house party of Claude’s, back when they got together.

She doesn’t let it evolve into more, despite Hilda’s insistent tongue trying to part her lips, and she pushes her ex-girlfriend away with a gentle finger against her sternum. Edelgard tries not to let it faze her, despite the resurfaced memory, and she stares at Hilda as impassively as she can. Brats did _not_ get rewarded for their bad behavior.

“ _E-del-gard_ ,” Hilda finally whines, and she watches with rapt attention as those powerful shoulders of hers flex against her bonds, perhaps testing them. It was entirely possible the Goneril girl could rip that scarf apart by the seams if she _really_ wanted to, but she very clearly did not. “Can you stop being a mega bitch _for five seconds_ and fuck me like you mean it? Pretty please?”

Her heart does a summersault in her chest despite the tacked-on insult there, and Edelgard scoffs, “Well, far be it from me to deny such a polite request.”

She maneuvers Hilda so she lays across her lap, and before the older woman can properly figure out her intent, she brings down her hand on Hilda’s ass with measured force. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to sting. The youngest Goneril’s entire body rocks with the force, most likely an overreaction from surprise rather than pain.

“ _Edel_ –!” Hilda mewls, and she knows that it’s not meant as an affectionate nickname, but rather a cry cut off by the indignation that flashes across her face. She’s trying to crane her neck back, to see what Edelgard is doing to her lower half, but Edelgard pushes her head back down with her free hand.

“You still called me a bitch,” Edelgard caresses the skin she just hit, tracing patters across the reddening flesh. “So before I make you come, you’re going to indulge me a little.”

Because of the angle, she can’t see Hilda’s face very well, but she thinks her expression may be one of bafflement. She hears her breathe in sharply, perhaps readying herself to plead her case, but Edelgard’s hand is swift and punishing as it comes back down with several quick strikes to her bottom.

A sound that could’ve been a distraught wail bubbles up in Hilda’s throat, but she manages to catch it before it bursts from her mouth, and she whimpers instead. Edelgard feels a flash of annoyance that her ex is deciding to hold back yet again, but before she can make her fury known, Hilda manages to speak between labored breaths, “ _Indulge you_? Nah, nah. Just _hurry up_ , I don’t have all–”

Edelgard is not remotely interested in whatever threats are about to spill from the other woman, so she claps her hand over her mouth, muffling her complaints. Once Edelgard can confirm that Hilda can breathe safely through her nose, her remaining hand is free to rain down a few more hits. It’s not long at all before Hilda is writhing in Edelgard’s lap, arching up into her firm hand and moaning behind her fingers.

Finally, Edelgard smacks Hilda on her upper thighs below her ass, with one final, loving blow. She removes her hand to let her gulp some air through her mouth, and she cards her fingers through pink locks, “Don’t call me a bitch.”

Hilda seems to be in too much of a daze to reply, and Edelgard tries her best to soothe the tender skin by gingerly skimming her fingers along it. She made sure that the force used would not leave any significant marks or bruises, but maybe sitting down would be uncomfortable for a while. In a sense, she feels like it was justified, just to put this brat in her place after her piss-poor attitude all week.

She finally lets her hand travel to the mostly-ignored place where Hilda’s legs met, the place she desperately wants to be touched, and she quietly urges, “Spread your legs for me, come on.”

Hilda groans, low in her throat, and for a split second, Edelgard wonders if she’s not going to comply just to be difficult. She’s thankfully proved wrong when, wordlessly, the spent Goneril parts her legs. Edelgard runs her middle finger along the pretty, pink slit there. Hilda feels wetter than when Edelgard had briefly fingered her before, and the Adrestian’s blood sings with validation and want.

Her deft fingers move along her folds, rubbing torturously. Edelgard is devilishly patient, working down her entrance inch by inch until Hilda is squirming and bucking into her touch. She makes sure to gather that wetness to distribute it all over, slicking up as much rosy skin as she can. Edelgard finally allows her touch to ghost over the young woman’s clit –just _barely_ , a hint– before resuming her glacial pace.

Hilda wails.

“Y-you don’t want me calling you names, ah, but you’re being _really_ demonic right now -- _ohgod_ \--fuck!” Hilda shudders wildly when Edelgard suddenly trades her ministrations for a series of little smacks against her cunt, akin to the ones that came before it, only this time, the target has way more nerve endings. “A-ah! _Ugh_ , I h-hate you! _Stop stalling_! Just go for it!”

Hilda tries to press her legs together, to close off access, and Edelgard quickly leans down to place a placating kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Keep them open,” Edelgard murmurs, now more of a request than an order. Her voice must ring with sincerity, because Hilda slowly spreads herself open once more.

Edelgard’s own breathing has become labored; it’s almost ridiculous how turned on she is, when all the attention has been showered on her ex. But Hilda is right, she’s starting to grow restless as well. Her own core is starting to demand some reciprocity, and _soon_. The Adrestian flips back her hair and braces herself to give Hilda what she wants.

She wraps her left hand around Hilda’s mouth once more to silence her. With the other, she thrusts two of her fingers inside Hilda with enough force that a surprised squeal is ripped from her lungs, setting the tone for what was to come. Edelgard is merciless, setting a pace that’s fast and relentless, and she finally pays much-needed attention to Hilda’s neglected clit.

The Leicester woman moans helplessly, the sound muffled and keening by her hand, but heavenly enough that it only serves to spur on the punishing momentum of her thrusts. When she adds a third digit, Hilda arches her hips and welcomes them like a champ. Edelgard feels the way Hilda’s body clamps down on her fingers, delicious and tight, and she alternates between fingering her and playing with her clit– only this time, with purpose, not just senseless teasing.

The telltale signs of Hilda’s incoming release are all there, her body going tense, her muffled voice pitching, and Edelgard hurries to circle Hilda’s clit just the way she likes– clockwise, and with a more delicate touch. She removes the hand on her mouth just in time for Hilda to cry out her name over and over, but only two letters– a broken chorus of _El, El, El_ bounces around her skull, and it makes her whole spine shiver with pleasure. Considering how their romantic relationship had crashed and burned, she’d thought Hilda would _never_ call her that again.

With a practiced hand, Edelgard fucks her through what remains of her orgasm, filling her one last time before gracelessly extracting her cramping fingers. She watches as Hilda’s body clenches around nothing, at the way she arches and trembles with the force of it. With her clean hand, Edelgard smooths down Hilda’s hair, murmuring praise she knows the other girl doesn’t really care for, but she hopes the timbre of her voice is comforting enough. She would’ve been able to wring another one out of her, she’s fairly sure, but for once, Edelgard’s own need was becoming impossible to delay.

Edelgard ignores the throb of heat between her own legs as she watches Hilda come undone, the way she falls apart as if boneless, and then how she just hangs there, panting and shivering with the aftershocks. _Gods_ , she was still as beautiful as ever, and Edelgard feels like what courses through her veins is actual lava.

Gently, she manages to move Hilda off her lap and on the bed. Edelgard makes a quick trip to the bathroom and grabs a washcloth, which she uses to pat down and clean between Hilda’s legs as best as she can. The sprawled-out woman catches her eye as she seems to be coming down from her high, and Hilda has the beginning of a cheeky smile tugging at her lips, “Mm, that wasn’t half bad. Thanks!”

Edelgard makes a noncommittal grunt, then tries to swallow down the sudden uncomfortable feeling that washes over her. For a moment she thinks she’s feverish, but her predicament is all-too clear: she’s unbelievably turned on. The thought of asking Hilda to reciprocate, though, is for some reason proving to be very daunting. After all, this would be the perfect opportunity for the Goneril girl to enact some revenge, and not the sexy kind.

Hilda wiggles around for a bit before she manages to get upright and sit back on her heels, which is a feat, considering her hands remain firmly behind her back, “Aren’t you gonna untie me?”

“I will,” Edelgard says, as she struggles for a few seconds to come up with the words to ask for something for herself. Ultimately, she tries for honesty, “But before that, I was wondering if you’d return the favor?”

She clenches her jaw, hoping it would suppress the embarrassed blush threatening to color her cheeks. She knew she was being what Dorothea affectionately called _a clown_ , but part of her feared Hilda’s resentment towards her ran deep enough that she would refuse her this, as was her right. After all, Hilda was probably back on her right mind, and when on her right mind, she hated Edelgard’s guts with gusto.

However, Hilda’s dazzling smile quickly puts her at ease. Gods, she’d forgotten how malleable and agreeable her ex became after an orgasm. “Right. You’re real wound up, huh?”

Edelgard hesitates, looks down mournfully at the ruined wet spot on her slacks, “Well, yes. Fucking you was hot, and I’m only human.”

“That last part is debatable.”

Her nostrils flare, prickly and sensitive as she was feeling, before she catches the wink that Hilda sends her way. As ever, she was _still_ trying to get a rise out of her. Edelgard cannot stop herself from giving a small smile in return, and she climbs back on the bed, unclasping her bra as she does.

“I suppose I can _indulge you_ ,” Hilda sighs, and she rolls her probably stiff shoulders a couple of times. As she looks Edelgard up and down, she catches her bottom lip between her teeth, “So, round two?”

“Yeah, but now I want you on your back. Don’t worry, you don’t have to do any work,” Edelgard’s confidence seems to return lightning-fast, “Just open that pretty mouth of yours and let me ride it.”

While Edelgard makes short work of her ruined pants and discards them right along with her sticky underwear, Hilda obliges her request, and carefully arranges herself on the plush pillows of her bed, choosing a comfortable angle. Edelgard’s nerves feel like a livewire at this point, so finding some relief shouldn’t take long at all.

She considers removing the remaining clothes on Hilda’s body, just to reacquaintance herself with the best pair of tits she’s ever had, but removing her crop top without ripping it would mean untying her, and it sounded like _a lot_ of hassle she did not wish to go through at the moment. Maybe, if the stars and planets aligned again, they could do this on another occasion… _oh, shit_.

As Edelgard advances towards her, one last pressing matter makes its way to the forefront of her brain and comes out of her mouth before she straddles Hilda’s face, “By the way, after I’m done, we’re starting _and_ finishing the fucking Powerpoint. You are by no means off the hook.”

Hilda’s eyes fly open, and the beginning of a protest is trapped in her throat. It’s the last Edelgard sees of her pretty face before it’s replaced by her own folds brushing against a very pliant mouth below.

* * *

Hilda’s entire body aches, but in a good sense. She inwardly hurts as well, but it’s mostly her pride; and to be more precise, her _dignity_ – there wasn’t much left of that, now. Edelgard’s tangy taste still sits heavy on her tongue, after her former girlfriend had her way with her poor mouth during some of the best sex she’s had in months. So, yeah, she’s torn between feeling mellow and enraged.

She fucking _hates_ the smug look the Adrestian shoots her from the couch as Hilda limps in from the kitchen, holding one mug of earl grey and the other berry blend. Her cozy night in had been hijacked by this demon, her apartment invaded, but she still felt a sense of contentment and ease that would’ve been a nightmare to explain to her psychologist, so maybe she wouldn’t mention this come her session on Wednesday.

“Thank you very much, Hilda. Smells good.” Edelgard looks right at home, wearing one of Hilda’s hoodies and with her bottom half cocooned up in a bright pink quilt. She taps away at the laptop resting on her lap –Hilda tries not to think about how a mere hour ago, that had been her– and pulls up their presentation. Hilda grumbles something under her breath before tugging at the quilt, urging her to share. She pulls up her own tablet from between the pillows and they get on the same slide via the sync of the cloud.

Hilda squints at the screen, “Is it just me, or are we figuring this out real fast? Like, we’re actually gonna finish in time… Hah, and it doesn’t look too terrible!” she puts her own mug down before she scalds her tongue, “I’m pretty sure it’s better than Claude’s, and he’s with _Lysithea_ , and she’s a huge nerd, as you well know.”

“We’re going to crush this presentation. We don’t make a bad team, you and I,” Edelgard’s good mood is evident, and their workflow has been surprisingly balanced after they got the tension out of their respective systems, “See what happens when you actually put in effort?”

It feels like a backhanded compliment, so Hilda doesn’t deign it with a response. Instead, she wordlessly hands her the mug reeking of bergamot so maybe she’ll stop talking.

No such luck.

Edelgard holds it up, her eyes narrowing at the teddy bears printed on it. “Hey, this is my mug.”

“ _Was_ your mug.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... so there it is. my first E rating, ever. i wasn't originally going to post it, but. i have a lot of repressed stuff i needed to pour somwhere, and fade-to-black scenes are usually my thing, but something possessed me to just write this idk. idk.
> 
> anyways, i know this is A Lot, so i appreciate anyone that took the time to read!!


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